Untitled
by SJO
Summary: Jack discovers a land with a strange cursethe complete lack of color. Are its inhabitants beyond hope?
1. Part I

(Note: I don't own Samurai Jack)  
  
Part I  
  
It was a beautiful day.  
  
My travels had led me to a lovely meadow. The climate couldn't have been more perfect. After traveling for so long, I had to sit down and rest. The grass was emerald green, and there were flowers of every color all around me. Unseen birds were singing. The cloud floated by without a care in the world. A butterfly with red and vibrant orange wings lighted on my hand. I smiled as I watched it flutter its wings and fly away.  
  
I thought about sharpening my sword, but as I drew it I forgot as I watched a new phenomenon. As the blade glittered in the sun, it made tiny rainbows appear on my gi. The light had never been right for it to do something like that before.  
  
I was happy. I almost forgot Aku existed.  
  
When that happened, I knew it was time to leave. My quest must continue. But before I left, I had to take something to remind me of this place. It would not dishonor the earth to take one memento. It was so hard to choose. At last, I found one flower with a large stem, almost begging for me to take it. It had five petals, creating the shape of a star. It was a very vibrant red, and its fragrance was so sweet. It reminded me of home. I plucked it, and it still looked as beautiful as ever. It made me happy. I put it next to my heart.  
  
How ironic was it that just past this beautiful country was one of the strangest lands I had ever seen! A very distinct line divided the path I was traveling. On my side were deep green grass and the sweet smell of flowers. On the other side was gray sand that seemed to extend everywhere. Beyond this border, there were no plants, no color, no life! There was no way around it. I took one step over and looked over to the other side. It was just as dismal as the land I now stood around me. What strange magic was this?  
  
There was no color. My skin was just as white as my gi. The sky was not blue. Everything was black, white, or gray. I could hear no sound. This was a nightmare!  
  
Finally, I saw something that broke the scenery. It was a tremendous sign that read "Untitled." Just beyond the sign was a city.  
  
Every house in the city looked exactly the same--one door, two windows. They were all the same size, the same shape. Nothing was out of place. Then I heard the first sound in this strange world--a bell tolling, chilling my bones. Immediately, each door opened up and children walked out. Their were one boy and one girl from each household, each wearing conservative suits and orderly hairstyles. Their faces were tired and distant. In the streets, they organized themselves according to age, the youngest first and the oldest last. Then they marched in two rows on either side of me. The youngest one recited a strange riddle in the same, monotone voice:  
  
"Mary had a little lamb. Its fleece was white as snow. And everywhere that Mary went The lamb was sure to go.  
  
"It followed her to school one day Which was against the rule. It made the children laugh and play To see a lamb at school.  
  
"And so the teacher turned him out, But still--"  
  
I couldn't hear the rest. I tried to inquire what it meant and how they could talk of laughter so completely empty of joy. They recited on without even noticing I was there. As the older children came past, I heard their march. "2 times 1 is 2. 2 times 2 is 4. 2 times 3 is 6. 2 times 4 is 8. 2 times 5 is 10." So they continued.  
  
Every age had its own march, and it all seemed to be on the rhythm with their march. The eldest children recited:  
  
"To be or not to be that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune Or--"  
  
Yet they spoke it so dully, stressing every other syllable so that the poem lost its meaning. The children continued to march and disappeared into a single building. Then the land was quiet again.  
  
As I neared the heart of the city, I heard music. It was a man playing a strange trumpet that hung down instead of extended out. The dark-skinned musician leaned against the pole. It was a melancholy song, so neatly laid out. Even note was the same length. When he stopped, I tossed a coin into his case. "That was very good," I told him.  
  
"Nah, it ain't," he replied.  
  
"Yes, it was."  
  
"It's so square."  
  
"Could you tell me, my friend, what has happened to the color here?"  
  
He first looked at me like I had lost my mind.  
  
"You know, it's like light. But it's not just black and white light; it's . . . different."  
  
"Oh yeah. That takes me back." He stood for a while, reminiscing. Then he glared at me. "Don't you go bringing up the past like that!"  
  
"But--"  
  
"I'm not talkin' 'bout it no more!" He put his instrument in its case and stomped off.  
  
Then I saw a young lady painting shapes on a canvas. "That's very thought provoking," I told her.  
  
She shot me a very offended look. "That's not what I wanted! Not at all!" She angrily through her canvas down.  
  
"You are an artist. Can you tell me what has happened to the color?"  
  
"Color? What's that?"  
  
"Surely you know. Red? Blue? Green? Yellow?" She looked at me with complete confusion. I had an idea. "Gold." I pointed to the diamonds on the hilt of my sword.  
  
"It looks like white."  
  
The curse had touched my sword? I drew it. The blade still sparkled. "Silver."  
  
"That looks like gray."  
  
"So it does," I said after inspection. "Have you not been outside this place?"  
  
"Why?" Before I could answer, she walked away.  
  
Everywhere I looked, there were miserable people. There was a poet reading aloud a poem, but it sounded monotone and made no sense. Across the street was a storyteller, but his story sounded like various, scientific observations. No one could explain why there was no color.  
  
"I wonder," I said to myself. I reached for the flower near my heart.  
  
"YOU! OUTSIDER! In here!" A somewhat tall man, balding with a bit of dark hair, and considerably rotund called to me. Perhaps he could tell me what happened that this place would have no color.  
  
I followed him into a dark house. He led me downstairs and turned on an overhead light. All I could see in the room was a wooden table. I saw this man's face clearly for the first time. He looked familiar somehow.  
  
"Who are you?" I asked.  
  
"What do you mean?" the man sneered.  
  
What else could I mean? "What is your name?"  
  
"HA! We hate names. No one here has a name, not even you."  
  
"How can that be so? Without names, one person is the same as the next."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"That's cruel!"  
  
"That's life."  
  
I tried to think of how to respond, but he spoke first. "Why are you here?"  
  
"There was no other place to go."  
  
"Don't be funny. You can't have just come here out of your own free will."  
  
"But I did."  
  
"Nobody comes here out of free will. They know who we are, why we're here."  
  
"Why are you here?"  
  
"Because of who we were." He looked away. "A long, long time ago, I can still remember how the fire used to make me smile, and I knew if I had my chance I could make those people dance and maybe they'd be happy for a while." He said it in such a way that I didn't even realize it was poetry.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"When we were young, we had a gift. We knew it. We could paint pictures, make music, dance dances, and tell stories. We made people smile, laugh, cry, or think. We could make our dreams come to life. We had a fire in our souls, put there by God or Prometheus or somebody. It warmed us, and it made us happy. But it was stolen from us."  
  
"By--" I nearly said his name, but then remembered how they despised names here.  
  
"That despot. He wanted us to use the fire for his purposes. We refused. There was nothing in him to make him great. So he took the fire out of us and put us here. This is more than just a land with no color. It's a place where we can not find the fire. We have all our materials and the desire to use them, but we can never express what we feel. And we can't leave. We'll die if we try, but death is much better than this."  
  
"It must be hard for you."  
  
"HARD?!? You don't know! What can I say? You look you're a warrior. What if I took your sword?" He grabbed for it, but I held it out of his reach and glared. "OK, you keep it. What if I took from you everything you know about being a warrior? All skill, strength, agility, and control were stripped from you. How would you feel?"  
  
I stared him down. "I would be a much happier man."  
  
"OK." He paused for a while. "Then what if I also took from you all that makes you a warrior in the first place? Gone is your thirst for justice, your desire for righteousness, your genuine compassion for people."  
  
"NO! You can't take away my heart! That is who I am."  
  
"You see now? That is how it is. He has taken from us who we are. Without the fire, we are less than human. All we are is dust in the wind."  
  
I turned from him. "No one deserves such a state," I said to myself. Then I thought about what I nearly did earlier. I pulled out the flower. To my amazement, the flower was still as beautiful and as red as it was when I first saw it! Nothing had changed. It still had a sweet fragrance, and the soft petals were not damaged. One bit of color in this dismal world was all it needed. "Look!" I said in amazement as I showed the man the flower.  
  
The man stared at it for a minute, his jaw dropped. Then with a trembling hand, he took it. As he held it, he smiled. Then he laughed, mirthfully, then joyfully, then insanely. I thought he could not stop laughing, and it kept getting stronger. Then his laughter turned to screaming. He pounded on the table with his fists, tried to knock out the light, then finally turned over the table. Then he sat in a corner and wept loudly. After some time, he grew quieter. And with a few gasping breaths, he turned to me again.  
  
There were no tears down his face, no indication that he ever laughed at all. There was no color in his face or anywhere. As for the flower, it was gray. He dropped it, and it crumpled like a dead leaf. "Thank you," he said, but he sounded like he didn't mean it.  
  
I turned and left, anger and grief stinging my eyes. There was nothing I could do.  
  
(Please tell me what you think of this part. I plan on submitting it to a creative writing journal.) 


	2. Part II

Part II  
  
I fled from the city as quickly as I could. I do not know how I escaped alive. Perhaps the charm allowed me through since I was only a traveler.  
  
I sat by a still, blue pond, and I wept. I was angry at the wretched condition of this city. I was sad for the death of my flower. Most of all, I was upset that I could do nothing to help these people. I could not stand to leave them in their misery, but it was useless. They are lost.  
  
In the midst of my sorrow, I heard music played delicately on strings. It stopped my tears. Truly, it was lovely music, but it wasn't so much the quality of the music as it was what it conveyed. It stirred my mind, making me dream things I have never dreamt before. I can not remember what those thoughts were now, but I do remember how they eased my troubled mind. It did not cease the pain in my heart.  
  
But who is playing this? Am I not alone? I saw her white reflection in the water. I looked up and gazed upon a curious creature sitting upon a flat stone and playing on a small, golden harp. She looked like a child, but her violet eyes (yes, I said violet eyes!) reflected ages of wisdom that I could never reach. Her golden hair fell in curls on her shoulders. I recognized the Grecian style of her dress, which seemed to be made out of light. Yet the most magnificent aspects about this creature were the two gigantic, white-feathered wings upon her back. I knew this visitor could not be human. I came closer and knelt before the creature, waiting for what she had to say.  
  
She finished her song and looked upon me. "Samurai Jack," she said in a solemn tone. Hearing her say my name surprised me. I do not know why. Perhaps it was the sound of her voice, so melodious as her harp. She spoke on, "Fair, noble, sweet warrior, favored of man, hero of heroes, why dost thy countenance fall? Why do tears floweth from thine eyes? Thou deserveth not such a state. Blesseth thou me with a smile."  
  
Is that all? "No. I have no reason to smile."  
  
She tried coaxing to me again, but I did not listen to her. Then, quite suddenly, she hit my head with her harp.  
  
"What was that for?"  
  
She did not answer, but hit me repeatedly with her harp. I finally struck it out of her hand, and the harp fell in the pool and sunk.  
  
She only smiled and pulled out another harp. "Always carry a spare." Her tone had changed to a more mischievous voice. She tried to hit me again, but I stopped her.  
  
"If you want me to smile, you are not being very persuasive."  
  
"Hey, that's how I work. I drill the ideas into people's heads until they do something about them. Yes, I know it's irritating, but it gets results."  
  
"That is how you deliver a message?"  
  
"Message?" The creature laughed. "What do you take me for, Hermes? My wings are on my back, not my feet!"  
  
"But that's what you are, are you not? I have heard little of your kind, but I know you are messengers from the heavens. You are called angels."  
  
"Me, an angel? No, no, no, if I were an angel, you'd be shaking in your sandals and would be face down on the ground about now. They're that frightening. No, I'm a muse."  
  
"Amused at what?"  
  
The creature rolled her eyes. "I get that all the time. Let me spell in out for you. I . . . am . . . a . . . muse."  
  
Oh yes, I have heard of the muses. "The Greek goddess of inspiration!"  
  
"No, I'm not a goddess. I am a figment of your imagination."  
  
"You're not real?"  
  
"Well, yes and no. I don't know how these things work."  
  
The muse talked for some time about why she thought she existed, but I was not listening. I was speaking to Inspiration herself! Surely she could rekindle the fire the man in the city spoke of.  
  
"If you please, muse, I have something for you to do that is, as they say in this world, 'up your alley.'"  
  
"OK."  
  
I led her to the border of the city. "Go here, and play your song. Perhaps things will change if they hear it again."  
  
But the muse shook her head. "Can't."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Let me show you something." She plucked off a feather from her wings, placed it in her hand, and blew. As soon as the feather floated pass the border, it vanished. "That's in one of the few places where there's a crack. Over here--" She pressed her hands against something invisible. "It's like a wall. I'm not wanted here."  
  
"The charm is this powerful?"  
  
"Oh, it's not just the charm, it's the town."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous. These people are suffering."  
  
"Perhaps some of the newcomers are, but do you know how long this town has been in existence? Since the Renaissance! Oh, that's after your time, isn't it? It was a period of art, science developments, religious reformation, you know open minds. There's nothing Aku fears more than open minds. That's why he made this place. Several generations have resided here. They're too comfortable with routine. Let's face it, a black and white world is just easier than a world of color. And the newcomers just want to forget, because they gave up hope of ever leaving."  
  
"There is no hope, is there?"  
  
"What? What are you saying? You, the Lender of Light and the Soldier of Solace!"  
  
I raised an eyebrow.  
  
"My new epitaphs for you. I know, I'm still working on them. I wouldn't believe that you of all people would give up hope so quickly. I don't give up hope. That's why I still hang out here. I'm trying to find some way that I can get in. I really don't like being ignored."  
  
"I noticed," I said to myself as I rubbed the place where she hit me. I said to her, "But if you cannot do anything, and I cannot do anything, what do they have to hope for?"  
  
"Have you tried?"  
  
"Yes." I told her about the flower. She listened very intently. As I spoke, clouds started to gather, and the perfumed smell of rain arose around us.  
  
"Tell me, Jack, why did you pick the flower?"  
  
"It was a memento of a place that brought joy to my heart. Those places are few."  
  
"And why did you give it away?"  
  
"I did not know it would die!"  
  
"That's not the question! Why did you give it away?"  
  
"Because I thought it would make a difference. Because I could not see him suffer. Because . . . because . . . "  
  
"Because you had to."  
  
Thunder rumbled.  
  
"Exactly. But how does--"  
  
"Hold that thought!" The muse looked toward the sky. I almost asked her how one could hold something as intangible as a thought when she spoke again. "I think I have an idea to help the distressed city."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Jack, what happens after the rain?"  
  
"The sun comes out."  
  
"Yes, and what else happens?"  
  
I tried to think, but nothing was coming to mind.  
  
"Oh, you deprived soul! Turn around."  
  
I turned, thinking she was telling me to look for something in the sky.  
  
"Now we don't do this to just anybody. Not even our most devoted patrons get this privilege. Actually, most people we have blessed so are considered by the mainstream of society as quite crazy. But I believe that your mind is open enough, and your heart is certainly pure."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
She did not answer. Suddenly, my back felt tingly all over. Chills went up and down my spine, and my back almost went numb. What was happening?  
  
The muse put over my shoulders straps made out of gold and snapped them into place. They seemed to disappear once they snapped, and she smiled. "There you go."  
  
Right then, I was aware of two new appendages. The muse, as I looked at her closer, looked like any ordinary person.  
  
She gave me her wings.  
  
"Now, I want you to up as far as you can go. Don't stop, just keep going up, and you'll something that might help. Just understand that you won't be seeing things the way they really are, but the way we them."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"No time, fair warrior, go!" 


	3. Part III

(Note: Niji in YT's fic "The City of Dragons" was based on Royg, not the other way around.)  
  
Part III  
  
I did not how to go up, even though I did have wings. So I leapt, and I was caught in a draft. There was something about feeling the air in my wings that made them work. It felt good. This was not like flying on a horse-less chariot or with a jetpack. The wings belonged to me, and I had control.  
  
The higher I went, the worse the storm progressed. I expected to feel cold and wet, but somehow I did not. But as I reached the clouds, I noticed something curious.  
  
Raindrops did not fall from the sky.  
  
I saw with my own eyes as one flitted on my finger. It was a dragonfly made of water. All the raindrops were dragonflies, spiraling down to earth with their large wings.  
  
I knew this could not be so. Could this be what the muse meant?  
  
As I continued to consider this phenomenon, I heard a low moan. Against the clouds, I could barely see a large bird of prey. It sang the moan again and flapped its huge wings. It created a large gust of wind that blew me away. The draft undid my hair and kept me from getting any higher. The best I could do was fight against the bird's wind with my own wings. It was not easy.  
  
By the time I had finally managed to get past the bird, I heard a loud hiss. There was a large snake made of light with blue eyes, and it charged for me. I knew this was lightning. I tried to dodge the snake, but it followed me. I drew my sword and sliced it in half. It hit against a cloud and exploded. Another lightning snake charged for me from the other direction. I knew I couldn't spend all my time warding off these snakes, so I flew above the nearest cloud.  
  
It was not raining up here. The sky was bluer than ever, and the sun looked like a huge, golden pearl. The cloud felt like soft earth. I could walk upon it.  
  
I saw what looked like a large temple made out of clouds. Yet, as I went inside, I saw that it was a stable--an empty stable.  
  
The first stall was round and bigger than the other stalls. A large sign above it read, "ZEPHYR AVIARY." Through a small window, I could see birds like the one I met outside.  
  
Two empty stalls next to the aviary read "ZEUS' and "THOR."  
  
As I passed by these stalls, I heard groaning. So, this place wasn't completely empty. I ran to where the sounds were coming from, the final stall. Above the door hung an impressive sign of gold which read:  
  
ROYG In care of BV  
  
At least I think that's what the name was. It was written in Hebrew. Of all the languages I learned, Hebrew was the most frustrating. I only learned a few basic words, the alphabet, and the fact that they never used vowels. Thinking about it now, the name might have been BW. Either way, it mystified me.  
  
As I looked over the door, I saw what the muse wanted me to find.  
  
It was a large, Oriental dragon coiled on the ground asleep. Its skin was striped red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and violet. White clouds floated out of the dragon's nostrils with every snore.  
  
Of course! A muse would remember that rainbows appear after the rain. They are so rare, I never expect to see them anymore.  
  
I slowly walked into the stable. "Royg?" I whispered.  
  
The dragon grunted and turned over. How was I going to get the dragon to wake?  
  
I spotted an old feedbag full of diamonds. Diamonds? Yet as I came closer, I saw they were drops of morning dew. I shoveled out about a thousand and held them beneath the dragon's nose. The dragon sniffed the food and opened its large, golden eyes. It lapped up the food with its tongue. Then it spied me for the first time. It walked over and nuzzled me in its mane. The dragon smelled like rain. I was glad I earned its trust.  
  
I opened the door. "Go," I said encouragingly.  
  
The dragon looked sleepily at the open door, snorted, and fell back upon the ground.  
  
"Come on, Royg. Go." But the dragon was not motivated. I pulled out my favorite ball from my childhood. "Do you see this?" I gave it a good throw to the entrance of the stable. "Go get it!"  
  
But the dragon just sleepily turned over.  
  
"No wonder we never see rainbows anymore." I was starting to get aggravated.  
  
But then I spotted something I am sure was not there before--a bridle, a saddle, and a piece of golden paper. I read the note to myself.  
  
"You have my permission to take Royg for a ride. Use the bridle. Be careful. He likes to chase the sun."  
  
No name was signed. I imagine it was from Royg's mysterious owner.  
  
I placed the ornaments on Royg, and the dragon perked up. He knew it was time to work.  
  
"Hiya!" I cried once I was situated, but he would not move. "Go!" I was beginning to wish the owner gave me more instructions when a gentle Zephyr blew the entrance door of the stable open. As the golden rays of the sun fell on our eyes, Royg took off like a shot.  
  
I wasn't prepared for the dragon to go so fast. I nearly fell off. The dragon ran closer and closer to the sun, and fell off the cloud.  
  
The experience was thrilling, once I was used to the dragon's flight. I was flying on the rainbow! I knew people down below were looking up at us in wonder. I had to guide the dragon toward the miserable town.  
  
Our flight lasted for about half an hour, then seemed to come to a halt. An invisible wall was blocking the dragon's path. Royg kept banging his head against it. Below, I could see the city with no color. How could we get through?  
  
It came to me. I remembered earlier that day, the tiny rainbows dancing on my gi. I drew my sword and held it up to the sun, so that it reflected the light on the invisible dome. "There Royg! Go!"  
  
The dragon roared and flew toward the reflected light. It filtered us through. Yet, now we were no longer flying. We were falling.  
  
I could see the dreary parade of children below us. Royg hit the ground, and I fell off the saddle onto the ground.  
  
The children gathered around me. "A man with wings? That's impossible," I heard one say.  
  
"I like the idea, though," another said.  
  
I opened my eyes to find myself in the heart of the rainbow. As I came out, I saw that my gi was no longer white, but a deep red. The children were no longer black and white. They were every color imaginable. No two looked the same. They stared at their new surroundings in wonder and delight.  
  
"But this isn't right at all!" I whispered. Everything was colored now, but nothing was the correct color.  
  
Nobody seemed to mind though. The musician I encountered at first was now playing a joyous tune, and from the look on his face it seemed this time it was from the depths of his soul. The young artist was painting meaningless lines and shapes. It still looked thought provoking, but I did not tell her. Some people did not like their new surroundings, but I think by and large that most were very happy. I saw the angry man painting a new sign at the city limits reading "Kaleidoscope." "This was exactly what we needed, my friend," he said, smiling at me. "Thank you!"  
  
"I'll take those." The muse was on her way in. She unfastened the invisible strands and took them back.  
  
"Thank you for letting me use them. Tell me more of what you meant, that I would see things differently."  
  
"Well, how else would you picture a rainbow as a dragon? I meant you see things as a muse would, as a dreamer."  
  
"And why exactly did the rainbow work and not the flower?"  
  
"The flower was meant for you! It was good that you shared it, but it was for you. The rainbow is for everyone. See Jack, you always do make a difference, but sometimes you can't do it by yourself."  
  
"I do not understand."  
  
"I'm sorry, but there's no other way I can explain it." She put the wings back on herself and touched my arm. "Keep fighting, mighty warrior, and bless you."  
  
I watched her enter the city, and I went on my way. 


End file.
